Pride
by MissMarquin
Summary: Yuri hadn't waited two fucking decades, to turn down being the role model he wished he'd had, while growing up. Oneshot.


_A/N: I know that the creator of Yuri on Ice has stated that it's 'an alternate world where people can love freely'. While I would consider this canon-compliant in it's nature, I've obviously gone with the more real-life reality that Russia and Kazakhstan are definitely not LGBQT friendly, at their core. As such, I'll include a mild content warning:_

_Mentions of homophobia, homophobia related harassment and realistic depictions of how Russia deals with gay citizens. _

* * *

_**Pride**_

* * *

"Yura?"

Yuri didn't answer immediately. Instead, his hands shook slightly, as he sat there on the bed. He took a deep breath, he tried to steady himself, he tried to-

Warm hands found his, fingertips and palms calloused. "Yura," Otabek said warmly, his voice an instant comfort. He tugged at Yuri's hands, pulling him to his feet.

Yuri let out the breath caught in his throat. "I'm not scared or anything," he finally replied. Otabek hummed lightly at that, causing Yuri to look at him. Otabek was shorter still, even after all the years, but he wouldn't change it. Nor would Yuri change the bits of silver in his short hair, or the slight wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. "I just… we've never been-"

But his words failed him, and he fell silent. They were caught in his throat, hard to express.

They've been together for so many years, and they've always had to _hide it_. They were public figures; there were examples to be set and people to appeal to. Young eyes, always watching them, always inspired by them and-

And well, being gay just _wasn't okay_ back home.

People weren't stupid. Their fans always seemed to know, seemed to see right through it all, the years of vague explanation and standing an arms length apart at every public function. The moment that they had been _outed_, not one person had been surprised. Except for Russia of course; the country wore thick blinders, refusing to move with the age. Yuri still had the letter that the _Figure Skating Federation of Russia_ had sent him, all those years ago- a jumble of paragraphs carefully worded into a quiet and very clear threat. The expectation of _behaving._

Yuri and Otabek had staunchly ignored them, despite better judgment. They both would tell you that it was absolutely worth it.

"I'm still adjusting to… well," Yuri began again, rubbing at his neck. It was a nervous tick that he'd picked up from Otabek over the years.

Otabek moved one hand, pressing it against his cheek. "We don't have to do this, you know," Otabek said gently.

"No!" Yuri started, but the other man wasn't surprised. Otabek smiled, just the slight upturn of one side of his mouth. "What I mean is, _no_," Yuri continued with less aggression, pulling the hand away from his face and pressing a kiss against his palm. "We moved here so we could _enjoy_ the rest of our lives."

"I suppose that marriage was just a side effect," Otabek deadpanned, causing Yuri to let out a laugh.

"New York is different," Yuri said. "But here we don't have to _hide_. Imagine how many lives we could change, just by being out there. Just by showing who we are?"

Otabek sighed softly, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his brow. "We never had that," he replied. "We weren't _allowed_ it."

"No, we weren't. Beka, we lost scholarships. We lost students. There was harassment and hatred, and even _death threats_. Moving here hasn't _ended_ that, but here we can make a difference. We can be the role models that we _want_ to be."

They didn't have to be fake anymore, pretending that there wasn't warmth and love and _everything _between them, that they were _just best friends and roommates_.

"I'm not afraid, Beka," Yuri repeated, his voice full of more resolve. He hadn't waited _two fucking decades_ to be.

"I know that, Yura," Otabek replied, brushing Yuri's bangs back with such clear affection, that his heart swelled. Otabek was his rock, he depended on this man. He always would.

Yuri looked out the window, at the street below. At the crowd there, queued up and readying themselves for the event of a lifetime. Pride parades were illegal back home, in Russia. People _disappeared_, for something as simple as being who they were. But here, in New York, it was better. Not perfect, but _better_.

And they could make _that much of a difference_, if they really tried.

"You ready?" Otabek asked him.

"Yeah," Yuri said, "Let's go."

The Old Man and Katsudon were probably tired of waiting for them, anyway.


End file.
